His jaw set, lips pursed, and he shook his head infinitesimally. “For chicken,” was all the response he would offer. It needed doctored, and he immediately took up the task, as was a perfectionist’s curse.

A bark of laughter resounded from him, her response conjuring a desire for the dry comedy film. How long had it been? Too long, was always the answer. “Suspenders? Look at me.” He held out his arms, pausing so as to give her the opportunity to give him a once-over. “They made suspenders for guys like me.”

Following her assessment, his brow would cinch, contemplating. “Honey, actually. Is it too sweet? Not sweet enough?” Very important questions.

Her excitement is palpable, and Rem turned away, if only to build the suspense. They both knew better than to think he could say no, however, so he let out an exaggerated sigh before finally ceding. “Fiiiine. But you’ll have to dress me. I’m not well-versed in, uh... reception attire.” Eventually, she’d explain why they’d not be attending the actual wedding, right?

A thick eyebrow arched in response, a side-eye its trusty companion. A wedding, of all things, as if he were some party animal. As he pondered, he held out a spoon with an experimental sauce on it, willing her to taste.

So many precautions... Messing up his eating schedule, risking illness, or accidental consumption of unknown animal protein... It was weighty and dangerous.

Rem was entranced, completely engrossed in testing out the new menu. Without the key ingredient, of course, but he still had to make sure the food was good before serving it. He hummed softly while he worked away, though he’d glance up with a kind smile towards James as she approached, taking up her favorite space against the counter. “Mm, what’s that?”

He rubbed at his shoulder in feigned pain, pulling a face that she’d probably miss, as she was already moving away. Busting hinselfnwoth finishing up, he’d call out to her in only a slightly louder tone. “I didn’t know you could cook, to be fair. I’d love to try your food.”

With two delightfully artery clogging plates, he sank down into the couch and pushed one into her hands. “Oh, I got a job, by the way. It’s at a place called High Life. I cook with drugs now.”

Her presence was a tornado and Rem loved storms, so when she made her way to him, she’d be greeted with a bright smile. Too late, he opened his mouth to counter her action, but snapped it shut, suppressing a laugh, when he took in her pinched expression.

“No,” was the easy answer, coupled with a chuckle. “It hasn’t been sweetened yet. And, since you didn’t tell me which you preferred, I went ahead and made both. So, chocolate, berries, or both?”

He settled his sights on her with an appreciative quirk of his lips, but shook his head lightly. “It’s my own fault, he really tried to work with me. I just don’t sleep much.” And that’s where he’d leave it. Thankfully, she let him, and he found himself liking her more and more.

Not that it was hard.

Rem frowned upon hearing that she hated Art history, but laughed heartily upon hearing why she still chose to take it up. “I imagine an artist’s life is an interesting one, I can see where you’d be enticed. Keep this up,” he held up a few of the origami attempts, “and maybe they’ll be teaching about you before long.”

The man finished the last bite of the core, stowing the remaining stem on the lid of his cup until he could discard his mess. He’d glance around with her before leaning in conspiratorially, nodding his affirmation. “Knew it.” A finger would touch his nose, then point at her, and his blue eye winked in mock understanding, as if a secret had been shared. To the grave, he’d take it.

“Of course we can,” Rem responded instantly, “though... just give me some heads up. I’m not good at spontaneous, unfortunately.”

Rem listener, but her answer wasn’t what caught his attention, but rather the way she presented it. If he was being honest, managing a hotel sounded dreadfully monotonous, but to each their own, and he wasn’t one to judge someone’s passion. “Art history,” he repeated, mildly more intrigued, but alas, it’s his turn.

To mentally prepare himself for a conversation he hates having - because one thing leads to another, and things are always over shared - he exhaled his breath into the steam of his drink, buying some time. A ginger sip would follow, then a contented hum.

“I’m a chef,” he finally answered, “though I am currently... between jobs, as I got fired yesterday.” A shrug would indicate his feigned indifference, but again, his damned eyes always betrayed him. His father always referred to them as portals directly into his soul; in other words, he could never hide his true feelings.

Rem also didn’t feel sorry for himself, so after another apprehensive sip, he nodded toward James again. “I want to hear more about how you got yourself interested in Art history. Managing a hotel can’t be...” He cleared his throat playfully, “that bad.”

He nodded before taking her seventh fail, making a few simple adjustments - at least, to his eyes - and returning it, perfectly formed, if not a bit crinkled. “You’ve almost got it.” He beamed approvingly, then dashed inside.

It would take him next to no time to return, both drinks perched securely in one hand, an apple lodged between his teeth, and a banana. The banana and the coffee would be set in front of her as he fluidly sank into the chair and took a chunk from the body of the apple. Gesturing, he chewed and swallowed politely. “For when you get hungry. It’s good filler, in case you don’t have time to eat. Good for the muscles.”

Another bite was taken, chewed, and swallowed, and he mindfully removed the lid from his tea, steam rising ominously. “What do you do?” That’s a normal conversation, right?

Rem couldn’t help but to light up at her apparent excitement and in no time at all, he had gathered a healthy stack of napkins to practice with. With deft hands, he showed her how to fold, and even unfold, in the right places. “No, I know, it’ll make sense. Or maybe it won’t,” he would shrug, adding the afterthought with a laugh hitched to the end.

“Maybe we should’ve started with something simpler,” he observed after the fifth or sixth crumpled napkin was discarded into the fail pile. “This is pretty top-tier stuff.” Rem would always find laughter easily, and this was no exception; it all seemed unfairly normal, all things considered.

Sitting back in his chair, it was with a stretch that he remembered what they came for. “Coffee!” The exclamation was sudden, and the realization that he may intentionally have held her up for her day showed on his face. “Here, I’ll go in and order. What’s your poison? Are you hungry? You did mention going to a diner instead, have you eaten?”

Rem sat down at one of the outdoor tables to wait for James, only after a quick survey of the inside told him he had arrived first. His leg bounced up and down in his idle state, as it did when he hadn’t slept much the night before. To prevent himself falling into a premature slumber, his fingers began folding a napkin intricately.

‘Are you interested in this woman?’No.‘Then why are you here?’Because I told her I would be.

A tsk sounded in his head, and he laughed outwardly as the fish formed in the napkin. Origami had been a hobby of his in his childhood, and the small sea creature was fine in its design, complete with moving fins.

Upon her arrival, he would hold it out to her wth a funny grin. “Here, I made this, so Bait has a friend. I named him Hook.”

The laugh brings a light to his features. It was odd to enjoy other people's reactions to his comedy. Did he like making her laugh? That was new.

You're doing well, Idris."

The voice caused his features to falter a bit only to return once more. "The more questionable, the better the drinks. However, there is one stipulation you must promise to adhere by. You cannot know what it is. If you can do this, I'll get you all the drinks you want."

With the cig in mouth his hand reached outward towards the woman. It was an invitation. If she denied him, no hard feelings. He wasn't the type of man to have his ego hurt by rejection. "I promise, it won't be boring."

Rem nodded at the phone, but opted not to respond. “33rd and Nassau.” A moment of thought brought him to the best possible route, and only then would he set out on his way. The phone gave him pause again, demanding his attention with a singular ding! A frown followed his reading.

A diner?

After checking his watch, he shook his head; it wasn’t time to eat, yet.

He breathed a labored sigh, staring up the ceiling above him. Rem looked at the time on his phone, then sat up with a kick of his legs. Uncertain fingers typed out a multitude of messages, but all of them sounded... off. It was fine, she was pleasant. She laid it on a bit thick, but hey, everyone had their quirks, right? They could be friends. Aloof acquaintances, even.

Only a day back and already he had found good company. Atom would be proud if he could see his brother mingling with the other kids in the Realm. So far it had seemed James was the kind of woman he could see himself hanging around with. Or she would end up plunging a heart into his chest.

Either way, he was into it.

Another drag was taken before a soft chuckle would leave his lips follow by another plume of smoke. "Warning signs? Well, first you will be approached by a man resembling myself. That's the point where you either run or see what the wrong part of town has to offer." Sunglasses were tilted down to reveal inhuman, violet irises that swirled like colorful magma. "And if you stay, well, maybe that man will treat you to a drink at the finest watering hole nearby. Who can say what shenanigans will come after?"

"Intriguing name. I like it." The grin pulled wider into a toothy smile. After giving a firm shake his hand returned to the pocket it came from. It had been some time since Idris had spoken to another being face to face but, so far, it seemed he hadn't lost his edge too much.

As he spoke, his eyes studied the woman from top to bottom then back again. "I do hope you are finding your way around well enough. Would be a shame to have such a pretty thing end up in the wrong part of town." A pack of cigarettes were pulled from his pocket and one pulled from the container. The box was offered in the woman's direction. If she took one it would light the instant she took it from the box, his lighting with it. "Then again," he inhaled deeply. The white cloud exploded from his lips away from James. He was still a gentleman, after all. "It's wrong of me to think you helpless. In my experience, some of the most beautiful are the deadliest."

"Well, well, here's a face I have yet to see." The source of the sultry voice seemed to step from nowhere, though it almost seemed he had been there all along. A friendly grin pulled up at the man's visage up to his sunglasses that concealed the eyes beneath them. The male stood confident with hands dug into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Where are my manners? Idris." A hand reached toward the woman slowly. Despite the friendly gesture an ominous air danced about the creature. "And a belated welcome to you. It's good to see new faces wandering about."